RAW RECRUIT - Illya's Instinct
by lilidelafield
Summary: PART 8 OF THE RAW RECRUIT SERIES Napoleon has been incarcerated by THRUSH for almost a week now without food, clothing or water. Feeling very weak, Napoleon bitterly regrets that he refused to listen to his partner's instincts on this case; but it is too late now. There is no way Illya will ever be able to find him now. Is there?


Napoleon Solo lay shivering on his bare bunk, his chin in his hands. He had not eaten for three days now, and it had been twenty-four hours since anyone had visited his cell for any reason. He was desperately thirsty, and had resorted to climbing on to his bunk and pushing his hand through the narrow slit in the wall that served as his only window in the hope of catching rainfall. So far, not a drop. He was loth to fall asleep in case it rained whilst he was asleep and he missed catching it.

Normally of course, he would have picked the lock on the door in no time, or even blown the lock out of the door; but not this time. This time he had been forcibly stripped of his clothing, right down to the flesh, his mouth and teeth had been carefully checked for hidden objects, and his hair had been shaven to a fine buzz cut. His only means of keeping himself covered for the sake of warmth and modesty were two very thin white sheets. He had wrapped himself up in them each night to try and get warm, but he was beginning to forget what being warm felt like.

The cell was dry at least. That was something, and although it was permanently cold, it was a steady temperature…rather like being underground. Chilly, but not cold enough to be icy. Uncomfortable but nor overly dangerous. An annoying coldness in fact.

He had been here, at THRUSH's pleasure now for almost a full week. He thought about his new young partner, Illya.

Their partnership had suffered a few setbacks to begin with, partly due to Kuryakin's inexperience in working with others, and partly due to Solo himself making unfounded assumptions. However, they had begun to settle down well, and Solo had to admit that Kuryakin had far exceeded his expectations as a partner. He appeared to have an extraordinary memory, and never repeated any mistake. He was a very fast learner, and that was what concerned Solo the most now.

For some reason, Kuryakin had had some kind of anxiety about this particular assignment. Solo's idea had been for them to separate, and cover twice the ground, but the young Russian had been unhappy about it. He had tried to persuade Solo that they should stay together this time, but had been unable to give any satisfactory reason for his unease. Solo had insisted that his plan was the right one, and he had done the one thing he always tried never to do…he gave the younger man a direct order to cover his own assigned ground and then to report back twelve hours later at their chosen rendezvous

That chosen time was now six days ago. Illya could have no way of knowing where he was, or how to find him, even supposing he was inclined to search for his arrogant, irritating, overbearing partner. It had been their first serious disagreement. The only reason it had failed to escalate into a full-blown row was because Solo had turned and walked away, simply instructing his partner to follow `the plan'. Those adjectives that Illya had hurled at his retreating back had hurt a lot more than he had expected. Why had he not listened to his partner's instincts? Illya Kuryakin had survived to become the intelligent, healthy and sane man he was now against incredible odds. He had clearly had to learn how to look after himself from a very young age. He had developed a very keen instinct, a sort of `nose' for danger. Solo shivered again and huddled himself in his thin sheets. Why oh why had he not listened to his partner's warnings when he had the chance? Was there even the slightest chance that Illya might yet find and rescue him?

Still hungry and thirsty, Solo found his eyes closing, and he slept, unable to keep himself awake any longer.

He woke up choking, the feeling that his throat was dry and sticky and starting to close making him cough violently. He was too hot. He shuddered, the pain in his head that had been at a background level up until now had started to pound like a jackhammer, and he lay still, eyes closed, any movement making the pain unbearable. He felt a pair of gentle hands touching his shoulders, and something cool touched his forehead. It was a hand. A large, cool hand. Napoleon groaned involuntarily, almost past caring who was about to drag him out to question him this time. Past caring what they thought of him.

"Napoleon, it's just me. Sssh, I have you."

Napoleon allowed the cool hands to turn him over gently, and prop him up so that his head was lying on a pair of warm knees. A small canteen of water was held to his lips and he sipped thirstily. Finally, his mouth was moist again and he was able to speak.

"Is that…who is it?"

"It's me, Napoleon. Take it easy, we have all the time we need. Sorry I took so long to get here. Thank you for waiting for me."

"What took you so long?"

Solo resorted to the familiar banter, in his effort to quash the tears of relief he could feel pricking the back of his eyes.

"I was captured, and it took me four days to get free, and another day to…um…before I was able to travel."

Napoleon struggled to sit up and turned, clutching at his sheets to keep himself covered. His partner had looked better.

Illya's blond hair was matted with dried blood and caked with mud. His face was badly bruised and streaked with dirt, and his clothes were torn and ragged.

"You don't look much better off than me."

Illya managed a lopsided smile.

"I've felt better, and looked better too. But at least I am still wearing my clothes. You seem to have misplaced yours."

Napoleon nodded.

"They were taken from me when I was first brought here, and all I have had since then is this sheet. I don't suppose you could lend me your trousers?"

"They wouldn't fit you Napoleon. Don't worry. This building is filled with sleeping beauties. We can relieve one of them of his clothing in order to save the ladies' blushes when we get back to headquarters."

Napoleon nodded, and tried to stand. He was dismayed to find that he lacked the strength. Illya offered his arm.

"I would offer to carry you out, my friend, but I have three broken ribs. If I help you up, can you lean on me?"

Napoleon nodded and Illya had to haul him to his feet. The two agents clung to each other, both gasping. Napoleon from weakness and exhaustion and Illya from pain.

"Three?" Napoleon gave his partner a worried glance. "Shouldn't you have…?"

Illya shook his head.

"…Sit in medical and wait for someone else to find and rescue you when I knew I could do it much more quickly and efficiently? Honestly Napoleon?"

Napoleon gave a slight smile and concentrated on walking. With three broken ribs, there was clearly not a lot Illya would be able to do if Napoleon did stumble except to throw himself undermost. Knowing Illya, he likely would do just that. To his relief, he found that once he was up and walking, a combination of his own stubbornness and momentum kept him moving forward without leaning too heavily on his partner.

"Illya, sorry I refused to listen to you. You warned me that there was something wrong about our information and it turned out that you were right. How did you know?"

Breathing heavily through clenched teeth, Illya was forced to take a painful breath before he could reply.

"I do not know, my friend. It felt wrong, that was all. That contact of yours…I was certain that she was lying, but I cannot explain it."

Napoleon glanced at his companion, and realized that Illya was starting to flag. His voice was coming in short, pained gasps.

"I think it should be _me_ helping _you._ I have been lecturing you about learning to trust your partner more, and yet I…I should have trusted your instinct on this one. It looks like my mistake has cost both of us dearly."

Illya gave a crooked smile.

"Not as dearly as you may think. We destroyed their operation, Napoleon. I left them a rather…explosive gift before I got away from my captors."

"What about _this_ place?"

Illya shook his head.

"This place is no more than a THRUSH detention centre and communications hub. I learned that they have a representative from THRUSH Central coming to inspect them in a couple of hours, so I freed all their prisoners and put every member of THRUSH here to sleep with one of those new long-lasting darts. They'll sleep for eight or nine hours. With the power core missing from their console…."

Napoleon found himself grinning.

"Sneaky Russian. THRUSH Central will deal with them more completely than we could, and we send Central a message at the same time."

He broke off to start coughing again, and Illya looked at him in renewed concern.

"Napoleon, you are sweating."

"I have been cold for so long, now I am too hot."

"You need to get into some warm clothes. I have some bottled water in the car. Here, this fellow looks about your size. Can you undress him yourself Napoleon? I think I had better not…"

Illya was starting to look a little whiter than normal. Napoleon removed the man's shoes and then his trousers and leaning against the wall, he managed to struggle into them. The shirt was filthy and covered in sweat patches, but Napoleon removed the man's puffer-jacket and slipped into it. He discarded his sheets and regarded his companion. Illya had been driven on by the need to find and rescue his partner, but now the adrenalin rush appeared to have abandoned him.

"Are you going to make it to the car Illya? You look…"

He got no further, as Illya fainted into his arms. Weak as he was, Napoleon was brought to his knees. There was nothing for it. He was too weak to carry his partner, having been without clothes or food for a week, and water for almost three days. He fished about in his partner's clothing in the hope that Illya would still have his communicator on his person. No such luck. Clearly, Illya's had been confiscated as had his own. Still, Illya was at least dressed in his own clothes. If only…Yes! The tracking device that had been built into Illya's top shirt button was still there. He activated it, and cradled Illya's head in his lap, trying to urge the man to wake up. After a few moments, Illya's eyes fluttered open.

"Napoleon?"

"Come on my friend, we need to get to the car. Try and get to your feet. I am too weak to carry you."

Groaning, Illya struggled to get up, almost crying out in pain as he did so. He held out his hand, and hanging on to it, Napoleon found his own feet once more. He grinned at his partner.

"Thank you for coming after me. Sorry for being such an overbearing and annoying idiot. I will pay attention to your instincts in the future."

Together they stumbled back to the car, and fell inside. Illya locked the doors from the inside, and his head fell back, his eyes closing in exhaustion.

"My instincts are not always reliable."

"They have kept you alive so far, my friend, and brought you here to rescue me. They are good enough for me."

The first thing that struck Napoleon when he opened his eyes was that he was surrounded by white. White ceiling, white walls…the white face that looked down at him smiled quizzically.

"Feeling better?"

"Illya?"

Illya nodded, smiling.

"Are you alright, Illya? You look very pale."

Illya shrugged.

"I've been better. A touch of concussion from my head wound, and my ribs hurt badly, but I'll be fine. I've been worried about you."

"Me? Where are we? Medical? How did we get here?"

"You activated the homing device on my shirt, apparently. We were found unconscious in our car. You've been under the weather for a day or two, my friend. Consequences of the way you were left for so long without warmth, food or water. But you are officially convalescent now."

The nurse, Sally Renoir came into the room at that moment, and her face darkened comically when she saw her patient out of his bed.

"Mister Kuryakin, how many more times must you be told to stay in bed? If you do not stay put, you will be strapped in. Is that clear?"

Napoleon's face broke into a reluctant grin as his fierce, determined partner caved in to the remonstrations of Nurse Renoir., and returned meekly to his bed, grumbling all the while. Renoir tucked Illya in, and her tone softened slightly.

"I know you have been concerned Mister Kuryakin, but you must remember that I too am concerned…about both of you. You have been unwell yourself, and I worry too. If you promise to remain in bed for the next twenty-four hours, without getting up and wandering about, and if your vomiting stops, we may consider allowing you to go home to recuperate in private."

She crossed to Napoleon's bed and performed some routine checks, and stood back and smiled.

"Has my partner been very sick?" he asked her softly. She cocked her head.

"Not in his own eyes, no. He's been suffering from mild concussion, and vomiting a lot. And since he has been in a lot of pain with his broken ribs, the vomiting has been making things a lot more difficult for him. Additionally, of course, the pain is making it much harder for him to breathe. But he will be fine. You know your partner. The vomiting is starting to ease off now, so we want to watch him carefully for another day or so, just to be on the safe side. That goes for you, too, Mister Solo. I'll leave you both in peace now, but if I see on the monitor either of you out of your beds, you will both be strapped in place. Clear?"

"As crystal!"

She grinned at them and left the room. Napoleon twisted in his bed to look at his partner. Illya was scowling at the door where the nurse had vanished, but he was not attempting to get out of his bed. Clearly, he was taking Nurse Renoir's threat seriously. He was not about to risk being strapped into his bed!

"Illya, how long have we been here?"

"Three days. You were sick and thrashing about for half of that time. Sally is right to say that everyone was worried about you. They really mistreated you, didn't they?"

"Only for the first two days. After that I heard and saw nobody. No living soul, no food, no drink or warmth…"

"Doctor Riley believes you must have been exposed to a virus or something, and then being cold and neglected meant you were unable to fight it off."

"I would have died in there Illya, if you hadn't come after me. I didn't believe that you would ever be able to find me. I knew that I was going to die. How did you find me?"

Illya shrugged diffidently.

"It's silly…"

"Obviously, it isn't silly. It saved my life."

"Well…I blew the place up as I escaped, and only when I landed on my head after being caught at the edge of the blast that I realized I would have done better trying to find some indication of where they might have been holding you. I knew it couldn't have been too far away, because I had heard your name mentioned once or twice whilst I was being tortured. I think I must have crawled into the nearby woods, because I remember vomiting violently into a rabbit hole and feeling sorry for the poor rabbits down there. It was a few hours…maybe a day before I found the strength to get to my feet and find an undamaged car to use. I had no clues except for overhearing my torturer being told that "that fellow Solo" was being held at the communications hub, where they had a very effective set of cells for prisoners. I studied a map of the area and decided where _I_ would choose to install a communications array…I struck gold on my second attempt."

"The Kuryakin instinct again, huh?" Napoleon was silent for a while, then looked up to find his partner still watching him.

"Have you heard of Napoleon's Luck?"

Illya nodded.

"Napoleon Bonaparte took great stock and comfort from luck, but I do not believe in it. Luck is a false god that will always disappoint its devotees. Don't tell me you believe in luck, Napoleon?"

Napoleon smiled.

"No I never have. There have been times when I have been accused of being lucky, but that is nonsense. Careful planning is all you need…Careful planning and a partner called Illya Kuryakin!"


End file.
